History
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: She looked up at the ceiling, wondering at what point she got so desperate that she was apologizing to a God she didn't believe in.  WILL NOW BE FULL LENGTH.
1. Chapter 1

"Fuck George Tucker." After trying to think of something to break the silence of the past hour, he'd settled on that. Really comforting, Wade, he told himself sarcastically, well done.

"I already did." She looked up at him, blurry eyed.

He took away her empty glass and went back to the bar to refill it, for what would have been the 4th time in the hour since she had stumbled in. He'd locked the door behind her, deciding that it was probably best that nobody else saw her in her current state; although, he reasoned, the chances of anybody wandering into the Rammer Jammer when the wedding of the year was in full swing, were slim.

"I didn't mean literally," He offered, as he handed her the glass of wine.

"I'm not stupid," He sat down opposite her, leaning forward.

She certainly wasn't stupid; he knew that; doctors weren't stupid, not intellectually anyway. She did have the tendency to be ridiculously dim at times, though. With George for instance; any girl with half a brain cell would realise that, however mismatched they seemed on the outside and however willing they were to run off to someone else, George and Lemon had something – something that pulled them back together – something that some girl from New York or an ex-NFL linebacker would never be able to break. A history.

"I know, Doc,"

He'd long ago realised that was what kept him attached for Tance for so long; history. What could beat the shared firsts or memories, all neatly packed away in the library inside his head? But people change, he understood, and just because somewhere in the treasured past, you had created all these wonderful memories, did not mean that you were always going to be suited. Memories were great, history was wonderful – but they weren't enough to sustain a relationship. Relationships constantly needed feeding with new memories – which didn't really happen with Tance and him. It was a bit like Burt Reynolds, Wade thought – he was given his meat, and was left with bones, and, although bones were fun to chew on, they couldn't keep him alive; he would need new meat sometime.

"I bet she didn't even look pretty."

Zoe fed him meat.

"I bet." He agreed.

Not literally – he couldn't imagine her cooking anything, especially after the Gumbo disaster.

"I hate her."

Zoe Hart beat history, by far.

He realised this was a contradiction – hadn't he just told himself that Zoe was stupid for thinking she could ever beat George's history with Lemon? How was her beating his history with Tance any different? Maybe, he deduced, it was George who was stupid; stupid for overestimating the importance of his memories with Lemon and stupid for underestimating his opportunity to make memories with Zoe.

"I hate _him_," Wade murmured.

Maybe George and Lemon were able to do what he couldn't and carry on making memories – maybe that's why they stuck together.

"I bet I hate him more,"

Maybe they just deserved each other.

"You probably do," She looked up at him, then back down at her empty glass. "Enough for one night,"

"You're actually expecting me to stay remotely sober?"

"Why not?"

"He got married, Wade!"

"That shouldn't be a surprise; case you hadn't noticed Doc, they been engaged quite a while now," She glared at him.

"If he was going to marry her all along, why did he...why...with me?" She struggled to find a word that best described what she shared with George Tucker. A love affair? Possibly, though she wondered if there had to be love from both parties involved for that to be true. An affair? Maybe. Sex? Probably.

"Guys are guys, no matter how many manners they got,"

"I hate men,"

"That ain't fair,"

"Why?" She looked towards the bar, wondering if she had the energy to get her own drink. "First guy I date hurts me and the second guy breaks me completely."

"That's like, 2 out of 2 billion,"

"There's more than that in the world," She corrected, and briefly he was stumped.

"Which just further proves my point,"

"What?" She scoffed. "There's plenty more fish in the sea?"

"Plenty more shrimp in Alabama," She looked at the deadly serious expression on his face and laughed. When he wasn't blowing her fuses, he could be quite...nice.

"One more glass?"

"Afraid we gotta have one functioning Doctor in this town – and tonight, Brick ain't gonna be that one."

"Nobody's going to need a doctor,"

"Who knows – Tucker might have an unfortunate accident with Burt," Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Lavon forgot to feed him," She smiled at his attempts to cheer her up and went back to staring into her empty glass.

"Why aren't you there?"

"At the wedding?"

"Yes,"

"It's not really...my thing."

She decided not to question him any further, and for a few minutes they stayed silent.

"Do you think the wedding dress was yellow?" She'd never been one for silence. He looked at her, noticing the slight brightening of her eyes, and grinned, showing all his stunningly white teeth, and then laughed. "Thank you, Wade"

"For what?"

"The free drinks," She smiled.

"I put them on your tab,"

"And for cheering me up,"

"Anytime, Zoe,"

**I know there's not a lot of background information as to what went on with George and Zoe, and I left it unresolved, but it's just a little snippet.**

**If people like it, I could expand. **


	2. Chapter 2

The Beginning

Zoe was still in her office, when she heard the front door click closed behind Brick and Addie, signalling the end of their working day. She was finishing off the paperwork of the 3 patients she had treated during the day; it should have only taken her an hour at most, but she was determined they were completed perfectly, in yet another attempt to prove to Brick that she was perfectly capable. She'd also taken the opportunity to read through a few patient histories. She heard the door click open again.

"What did you forget?" She called, not looking up from her desk.

"I just need a little help, Doc," She looked up to see George Tucker in the doorway, with a blood sodden towel held to his eyebrow.

"Jesus,"

"It's not that bad,"

"No, you just startled me," She stood up. "I wasn't expecting any more patients,"

"I was waiting for Brick to leave,"

"Why?"

"Maybe we could talk at the same time as cleaning me up?" He smiled, wearily.

"Sure," She led him into a different room and sat him down on the treatment bed. She handed him some painkillers and then, pulling on a pair of latex gloves, she took the towel off him and began cleaning up the wound.

"Déjà vu," He smiled, and she looked away immediately, searching for her suturing needle. She used to think she was capable of ignoring the way her legs felt like jelly whenever he smiled, or that she could fight off the urge to hold tight and never let go when he talked about New York – she was Zoe Hart, for God's sake, men didn't do this to her. But, after last time, when she had been so close to leaning in and kissing him, and almost being caught by Lemon, she had to take better care.

"You need to stop getting yourself hurt,"

"You know what they say," He grinned again, and she was running out of reasons to divert her gaze. "There's a third time for everything,"

"I'm going to have to stitch it up."

"Hold still, right?"

"Yes, really still." She leant in and began her work. "How did you manage to slash your eyebrow open?"

"I got hit by a car door," She stopped briefly, shooting him a puzzled look, inviting him to elaborate, before she continued stitching the wound. "Lemon opened it on me and the corner hit my face,"

"Why was Lemon opening car doors on you?"

"We were arguing," He noticed an expression of horror spread over her face, before she quickly masked it. "She didn't do it on purpose – she was just going for a drive to cool down and I got in the way. She offered to drive me here,"

"You drove yourself in this state?"

"I walked,"

"You walked?" She wasn't sure if she'd heard him right; she couldn't have done, it was insane. "Do you know how much blood you could have lost? Do you feel light headed?"

"A little," He smiled again; she really wished he'd stop. "I'm fine, Zoe, I applied pressure," He pointed towards the towel. "I'm fine."

"What were you arguing about?"

"Everything," He sighed.

"Sounds like a really healthy relationship," She held her hand to her mouth, dramatically, resembling a child. She quickly pulled it away, realising how silly she must have looked. "Sorry, that sort of just..."

"Splurged out?"

"Exactly."

"I do love her...it's just she's so...difficult,"

"You're telling me," Could she not just stay silent for a second, without having to interrupt with a witty, sarcastic comment? "Sorry with the splurging, again,"

"She wasn't always like this," She finished up the stitches. "She used to be so funny; she made me smile," Zoe handed him a glass of water. "She didn't scheme, or fight – she was nice to everyone. We used to talk forever about everything. She used to want to get out of Bluebell too, you know?" Zoe scoffed at this revelation, unwilling to believe it could have possibly been true. "She made me smile, Zoe. I fell in love with her because she made me smile. So much."

"Pre-warning, Tucker, before you go any further, I'm not good with tears," She smiled weakly, and he laughed.

"You make me smile."

"My Mum always did say my humour was my best asset,"

"I wouldn't say it was your best,"

"No?"

"There are other things,"

"Attractive job?" She waved her bloodied gloves in the air, laughing.

"It is quite attractive,"

"Blood?" If it hadn't been for her bitter determination to impress her Dad, she had often wondered if she would have become one of those girls who ran away from blood, screaming 'EW' as they went. "Are you a horror movie man, by any chance?"

"No, the blood part definitely isn't attractive," He smiled. Damn that smile. "The intelligence that comes with it."

"Thanks,"

"And your looks are a pretty big asset too,"

"But not the one I want to be defined by," She countered, trying to ignore his compliments, knowing that she'd end up misinterpreting it as flirting. It wasn't flirting with George – it was friendly chit-chat – he was engaged and he had morals. Sure, if it had been Wade Kinsella, it would have been a different matter, and she would have quite probably called it flirting, and carried on. But with George it wasn't. And it never would be. And the sooner she wrapped her head around that, the simpler everything would be.

"I'd expect nothing less of you, Doctor Hart,"

"You're all stitched up and ready to go,"

"Thank you,"

"Welcome," He stood up, and made his way to the door, before turning round. Zoe wondered what he could have forgotten – she couldn't remember him having a coat when he came in, which was logical – no sane person would ever feel the need to wear a coat in Bluebell weather.

"Zoe," He came closer, and as much as her head willed her to back away, her feet were routed to the spot. "Is there any special care?" She could feel his breath against her face. "For the cut – should I bathe it or...?"

"Definitely not." God, she hated him so much. What happened to sassy, confident New Yorker Zoe Hart when he was around? "You need to keep them dry." She swallowed.

He didn't bother replying, and simply leant in closer.

"George," She whispered.

"What?" He looked into her eyes, which had left their usual calm state, and became windows into her mind. They didn't know which way to look – conflicted – just like her. And then he realised what he'd done. "God, I'm so sorry,"

"It's wrong,"

"I don't know what I was thinking. You're just...you're...I can't even begin to...you're...do you know how hard it is to not do that every time I see y..." She cut him off; hurriedly gripping her hands against his neck, pulling him closer.

She really hoped Lemon didn't walk in.

**By request, I'm going to try adding to this. Think of the first chapter as a little insight into the future, and from now on, we're back at the beginning. Please review, please please please. **


	3. Chapter 3

Turkey Disasters

_Forgive me father, for I have sinned. _

She looked up at the ceiling, wondering at what point she got so desperate that she was apologizing to a God she didn't believe in. He'd left very early, which was expected. She didn't like that her head wasn't throbbing, and the absence of injuries from the night before made her feel uncomfortable. She was actually in bed too – properly in bed, not just strewn across it randomly with her shoes still on. All signs that meant she couldn't blame what had happened the previous night on alcohol.

She had had a one night stand.

With an engaged man.

Sober.

"Shit." She muttered to herself, turning over and burying her head in the pillows. She'd spend all day in bed she decided – how else could she possibly deal with the situation.

Then her phone rang.

Ignore it, she told herself – whoever it was couldn't be more important than trying to forget about the biggest mistake of her life.

"_Zoe, it's Brick. I need you at the office." _

It was a simple message, and one she doubted she'd ever receive the likes of again. Brick requesting help? Brick Breeland was admitting Zoe Hart could be of use to him.

One night stand, or not, there was no way she could allow herself to miss the opportunity.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, and begun the process of picking an outfit.

"Where have you_ been_?" He grabbed her arm and took her to the back of the waiting room, out of everyone's earshot.

"I just got your message; I came as quickly as possible," He was tempted to argue further, but he couldn't afford to waste time. "What happened?" She asked, looking at the dozens of people, sat with their heads in buckets.

"Undercooked turkey,"

"But why is everyo..."

"From the pageant." He cut in. "Addie's split the patients into two. Anyone with a blue piece of paper needs to see you. They're numbered, so do them in that order,"

"But you can treat food poisoning at home, without a doctor. They don't all need to be..."

"They want to be here," He cut in again. "Therefore we are going to treat them."

"We could treat them in one big group – they've all got the same symptoms, so why not give them the same diagnosis and treatment?"

"No,"

"Come on, Brick! They've all got food poisoning. All we need to do is tell them all the drink lots of water."

"And what if one of them doesn't have food poisoning? What if we miss diagnosing someone who is _very _ill, because you were lazy and wanted to cut corners?" She struggled to find a reply, as he turned back to the patients. "White, number fourteen?" He was followed into his room by Lavon.

"Can everyone with a blue piece of paper hold it up?" She shouted, over the ruckus. A sea of hands flew up. She was going to have a long day.

She lost count of how many times she'd told someone to drink lots of water and have plenty of rest. She told them what foods to avoid, to stop drinking alcohol, to stop smoking, to lay off the coffee until they were better. She swore Brick had only done it to annoy her, and that his rigorous methods had nothing to do with caring about the well-being of his patients. He probably didn't even have half as many patients as her – he said they'd been split into two, but he never said equally.

On the way to the surgery, she had been hoping that whatever it was he needed help with, it would have been something important or interesting enough to take her mind off George Tucker for a while. But the continuous stream of repetitive cases did the exact opposite, leaving her mind with nothing to do but think about George Tucker.

God, she hated Bluebell sometimes.

"Number thirty-seven!"

"How are you, Doc?" She looked up from her desk, to see that Wade had sat down on her treatment bed.

"A lot better than you, by the looks of things," She smiled at his never-faltering lopsided grin, which seemed out of place on his unusually pale face.

"This is all your fault you know," She began the routine, beginning with checking his eyes.

"How? I didn't cook the turkey," If she had attempted to cook turkey, he thought, she probably would have ended up giving someone food poisoning.

"Well, if you hadn't rainchecked me, I would never have ate that turkey," She hadn't even thought about Wade when trying to process her big mistake. She'd completely forgotten about his attempt to ask her out, and now, looking at his clueless smile, she suddenly felt even guiltier about Tucker-gate.

"Is that so?"

"If you'd said yes, I would have gone straight to the Rammer Jammer, but instead, you walked off, and I ended up at the turkey stall,"

"Oh, well, I'm very sorry," Inside, it felt like she was apologizing for something else – something more than a raincheck.

"You should be,"

"These are dehydration salts," She handed him a few pink sachets. "Dissolve a sachet in water, and have about two a day until you're better."

"Thanks Doc," He took them and stuffed them into his jeans pockets. "You could make up for poisoning me, by taking that raincheck tonight?"

"Unfortunately," _I slept with George Tucker last night, so if I was unavailable before, I sure as hell am now. _Of course, she couldn't say what she was thinking. "I was just about to tell you no alcohol, smoking or coffee until you get better,"

"And how long will it be until I get better?"

"A few days,"

"How about Friday then?"

"Can we talk later? I've really got to get through all my patients,"

"Right," He stood up, all his new found confidence from the smile she had given him when he'd first asked her out after the pageant had quickly disappeared. Who was he kidding? He imagined the smile, just like he'd imagined her being vaguely interested in him for anything other than stress relief. "Have fun," She followed him out.

"Number thirty-eight?"

**I don't know if turkey is a Christmas food in the US – I know it's for Thanksgiving. But as we don't have Thanksgiving, Christmas is all about the turkey. **

**Thank you so much to everyone who added this to story alert – but PLEASE review, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. **


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